#freewriting
There is hail knocking on my window
There is hail knocking on my door
There isn’t supposed to be any hail here
But the hail keeps knocking more
It’s shouting “Let me in! Let me out!”
I grow tired and blue
There is beer bottles on the floor
Some are old, some are new
A few are cracked, others fine
I fear I’m losing my mind
But the hail keeps on knocking
And I know that it’s time
The weathermen and meteorologists should be coming soon
But apparently there’s not enough evidence, so they stay in their rooms
The hail attracts some viewers, but I really don’t care
If they become trustful witnesses, I encourage them to stare
But there’s a mole inside the house, one who loves the hail
Although it makes their hair fall out and their skin to turn pale
It makes them stressed, it makes them sad
It makes them bruised, it makes them mad
I try to speak up but my voice is simply gone
There is no more hope for peace to ever spawn
So I sit and stay quiet, waiting for grief and for gore
So maybe then the mole won’t open to the hail anymore.
3d ago
May 31, 2026 at 5:15 AM UTC
Hopped out of the hot water so quick
Came out to my computer with just my towel on
Now I'm coming out as an addict
Its not your typical stuff
Or maybe its overwhelmingly typical
Tech, Food, Self
Look, my TV is still on! The screen never sleeps.
Even when I should be resting the world's dopamine rules everything
Maybe its time to get back in the shower
And set a record for the worlds longest rinse
In the warm comfort of first world faucets
Went the longest I've gone without cooking a meal
Because why would I? Everything is on demand
Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner
Drama, Music, Faces
I"M DDONE WITH IT!
Pull me out of it
Shoot me into the 19th century
Or something
I need less dopamine
My dopamine eats everything it sees
And all it can see is me
Cuz its mine. Or am I its?
"That's for you to decide!"
I'm not convinced.
I am an agent
But so is everything else.
Tech, Food, Self
Those three led me here tonight
God will lead me out?
Words, Exercise, and Art?
Everything hinges on these?
I can make them agents?
I can convince them to become?
"I can learn to decide?"
Am I theirs? Are they mine?
All they can see is me, but I don't see them
Love will nurture everything it hears
I need more love
Or something
I will catalyze the 21st century
I will breathe into it life and love
AND THE WORK WILL BE ETERNAL
Myth, Unified feeling, Others
Creation, Fall, Atonement
Why not?? My existence demands it of me
How long can I go without getting fast food?
In the calm cold of broken, third-world, electric-heated showers
I set a personal record for the least amount of dopamine
Perhaps its time I return to those faucets
Let the dopamine rest, and true work will be my everything.
Turn the TV off! The screen was never really on.
Words, Exercise, and Art.
How underwhelming and typical.
Now I'll stuff myself with the typical
To let the addict out for good.
I let my towel of fig leaves fall with my computer
And dive into the fountain of living waters
But slowly, this time.
May 16
May 16, 2026 at 3:19 AM UTC
The multitudes play on a different stage typically being poorly worn and even abysmally addressed, go look for yourself. Fancy a guilt free jewelry box night at the Ritz while lying your tale off? Righty oh! Give yourself a pat for pulling through the difficult shift.
Sue and John are finding the pond has been shipped just recently. All the rules are exacting a revenge of sorts. A fad culture of revolt lingers right below the bent nail. Jobs are weary and shamed to speak, giving high time to the print mechanics.
Feb 18
Feb 18, 2026 at 3:03 PM UTC
She called me over when her parents left, and invited me over for a date.
Before I was in her room
It was advised to bring some protection.
Latex?
All for her to be done?
————
Latex Gloves.
I pulled out and began scanning my fingers across her room.
At the end of the room :vines.
Vines from trees, flowers emerging through and from. An allergenic smell emitted—carving out the thick toxins as they fell onto the floor like a staircase of crumbling debris.
Like pages of books falling flat onto the floor ill by the plague and far from recovery.
The smell of lavendery-daffodils. Like new laundry, everything was scented in this room, by color and by smell.
No visualization decoded by my eyes all because they were fried.
Red and puffed.
The frequency in the room, making zap-roided sounds.
Electric like all the different shades of blue, a savory sound and a unironic taste.
I would not want to explain because I kept it all to myself.
I marveled at it all and not whatever was in front of me.
I viewed her emotions as inferior to this delight of a room.
Far better than anything sensory she could of course do.
A distraction these walls became
Overwhelming to me was not the best of both worlds.
The only distractions were nothing but this interior design…
Aug 5, 2025
Aug 5, 2025 at 8:16 PM UTC
Problems to fix—
Solutions at hand
Over the limits, the mind is stuck.
A stuck mind destroying energy and twisting your thoughts.
To get over it is pressing more than just the block button on your thoughts.
Determination and Will-power, chained to the leg.
Jumping over the gate with barbed wire cutting deep.
Problems to fix—
Solutions at hand
Over the limits, the mind is stuck.
Stuck on the fence of barbed wire.
The mind is stuck.
Restricted from getting over.
Jul 19, 2025
Jul 19, 2025 at 4:14 PM UTC
Unfulfilling love.
A lingering feeling so strong
its power engulfed my body.
Sensations coursing blood through and from my body
Baiting us to fall ill to our temptations and temptors.
All I see is a deep blue
imitating the flame of desire prancing around my room.
On my bed, there is nothing but that color I see.
It’s deep yet it fades—
Both the color and the feeling.
The feeling of a serpent gone & nearby.
Jul 10, 2025
Jul 10, 2025 at 9:44 PM UTC
A Personality fostered so well.
Ever since that day you came to me.
Came to me and tutored— showing all your works to me, never displayed onto a wall but kept well in memory.
With trust there was no faltering, passionate as a phoenix—I thought.
Still your heart-ached.
With no other options,
you were compelled to do so.
What hurt was your departing.
Although you left,
your actions spoke to me.
With understanding I kept to myself.
Jul 5, 2025
Jul 5, 2025 at 11:49 AM UTC
frayed but full to four edges
marginalised annotations leaving nothing unsaid
over the bleeding watermark shouting its insistence:
nothing is ever finished only paused pending further
inspiration from yet unheard whispers from beyond
the perimeters of an ensnared inner page of rage
Mar 31, 2025
Mar 31, 2025 at 5:26 PM UTC
I called you today.
I think you really are like a big brother to me now.
Thanks for comforting me.
I really needed to hear from you.
You are as funny as ever.
I’m glad I got to joke around with you.
You always know how to make me laugh.
I feel like I always smile when I talk to you.
Thanks for letting me rant to you.
You always know when to talk and when to listen.
You always give me sound advice.
You helped me clear my thoughts yet again.
I called you today.
Maybe you’re not quite to the big brother stage yet.
Thanks for comforting me.
I really needed to hear your voice.
Aug 23, 2022
Aug 23, 2022 at 5:11 PM UTC
If I had to say something now, in this moment of a great nonsensical sense of loss it would be that I too, can’t stop falling in love but am stuck in the 1950s, I can’t carry a tune or stand in line so there is very little hope, they said hope was the last thing in the jar, and when the lid slammed shut, we were saved from it all. That earth angel knew what she was doing, wholly like a lock of blonde hair from Doris Day, when she set the paper moon on fire, and I guess Bobby knew it too, when he dunked it underwater, hoping to send it somewhere flameless and soggy, beyond the sea. I cried into the moon, tripping over my slippers and I put my head on the bookcases’ shoulder, Paul Anka and Chubby Checker themselves couldn’t quench the tears, I was twisted you see, and I didn’t think it could be the same again. Time to put the cardboard cut-out down, the picket signs chopped to fences and I dragged my toes, I fell in love with the plastic walls, the table I built and a thick, encompassing sense of home, like a teenager in love, I don’t know why they did it but the high crooning voice of Lymon helped me unstick from the walls. Some spirit of left creativity, me and my bereftment belong together, tied when Ritchie Valens dropped us down behind the chest of drawers, I yelled to grab a hand, but it fell quietly onto the curtain pole, impaling itself. Nathaniel entered the room, came looking but answered the ringing with a “Hey, Mama” and left. I couldn’t save my own last dance, I didn’t know that I was it, it drifted and said it would meet me someplace. It said it would meet me when the air clears, it’s getting late and tonight I look something dear and washed up. I miss you so dearly, send me. I hadn’t known that that would be it, this impressive but horrific amalgamation, and I’ve been here for too long.
The screen is dark and blank, I can’t see anything past it here.
Here in this empty space where it all was.
Jun 11, 2020
Jun 11, 2020 at 2:03 PM UTC
Things are falling out onto the floor, bits and stuff- old hoover batteries
doing a bit of a jazzy buzzcut dance like jam hand sandwiches that moment where your
hands can’t skate fast enough and can’t stop tying themselves in knots
elephant trunk knots protruding precariously like weird plate show tunes breaking the moment, wave, pebble beach, ugh.
What a lovely space question mark, it is?
I thought you were blocks from fake eyebrow movements
the childhood adverts like many sided shapes Michael Landy sheds his dose
Mavis plays the harmonica cha-cha-cha
the floor caves in but you don’t need it
you’re held up by sheer, pure spite, very little
IKEA scrambled eggs on toast this is how I scramble it, like bad cement mix
eyelid blink pin drop sounds like not fitting I hate your shoes, put them in the kitchen bin
and move me to the top of the wardrobe, I like to be very, very far from
the floor.
Jun 11, 2020
Jun 11, 2020 at 1:39 PM UTC
It was a few days after it all
when I clung
to the ship that wasn’t really a ship, or you told me so
I,
I would have believed it could have been anything
a block of cheese, a fandango,
that old porch
I’ve been dreaming of for a few years
the scene doesn’t end but
Frank, the jumper wearing fellow-
he’s shaped a little oddly- he
told me to leave the fridge open
and you see I got a little distracted the world wasn’t quite there
and the machines weren’t quite machines
and I couldn’t pull things off the walls like I could pull
fishes
fishes out of my eyes- something a little backwards
didn’t we used to keep this behind the teabag jar?
I,
I thought the lid was
superglued with something a little tougher than
soft touch
blues
the melody calls out from one of those dog-eared
spitting instruments and we
look at each other in shock-
it knows something we don’t.
Jun 11, 2020
Jun 11, 2020 at 1:40 PM UTC
Beach tunes happy-go-lucky spins around the living room the way you catch me when I launch myself at the kitchen tiles, I just wanted to catch something right like a childhood home and things won’t stop lobbing themselves at the walls like sad, falling existential poets eye rolls bad yarn fingerprints track loosely around this domestic space come in for a slow dance, I’ll tie my hair up and we’ll use the lawnmower as a kitchen table chasing our dinner down the street microwaved bats keep coming through the windows Happy Halloween, my love. Slow lips touch themselves together tiredly at the end of the words fall off the face sliding slowly drum beats pleasantly thoughts die here in this greeting card poster perfection ohh, how nice it would be to have a shootout in a 50’s diner with baguettes the same tune it lollops around the room a little glamorously nothing has ever been this perfectly balanced before I fall off my chair it knows something we don’t.
Jun 11, 2020
Jun 11, 2020 at 1:41 PM UTC
THE PIANO KEYS. KEEP STEPPING. ON MY TOES. THEY DO IT WITH A LOW, GRAVELLY, DOMESTIC APPLIANCE VOICE LIKE THE DAY I CAUGHT YOU DANCING. DANCING SO BEAUTIFULLY. IN THE VIOLET ROOM WITH THE SHAGGY. DRUNKEN. HOOVER. OH. ONE-EYED CARPET FACE I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M DOING. I SWEAR MY TINNITUS IS ACTING UP. THE ROOM HASN’T STOPPED RINGING SINCE YOU OPENED YOUR MOUTH THE FIRST TIME. WHAT AN UPSIDE-DOWN BLUES CLUB I WALKED INTO. I ORDER A DRINK FROM THE SINK. IT TOLD ME STRAIGHT OUT TO **** RIGHT OFF. I THINK I JUST LOST ITS NOTEBOOK. THE ROOM OF BACKWARDNESS. OUTWARD. HANDS. THUMBS. I THINK I MEAN. PLEASE DEAR GOD. STOP CROONING. SIGHS THE RUG. TIRED OF STEVEN. STEVEN DOESN’T KNOW EITHER. ANYTHING. NOT EVEN. ABOUT THE CARPET.
Jun 11, 2020
Jun 11, 2020 at 1:43 PM UTC
Big fluffy dressing gowns keep misbehaving and stuffing themselves into un-rounded empty spaces and the spaces are shrinking so excuse me BUT I’M A LITTLE STUCK OVER HERE like the nightmare about losing teeth, about being too small and driving a big van, a massive van down a long hill, it gets steeper and THERE’S NO BRAKES. MAYBE IT’S THE MARRIAGE OF TWO PERFECT ENTITIES, ME AND THE DRESSING GOWNS, that is. But I’d expected it to pan out a little differently than end in the middle of a Bridget Jones film or some other badly frequented metaphor glued together with lollipop sticks. Who are these people who don’t find themselves biting into deep pure, gross, clogged nothing when they have an empty wall in front of them? I bet THEY DANCE FABULOUSLY with toasters.
Jun 11, 2020
Jun 11, 2020 at 1:44 PM UTC
From the golden pearls placed on its doors,
my breath got cut short.
Its sliver coloring shook me to my core.
I saw it’d started to widen ,
thought I would see the world’s most beautiful garden...
but instead : stood, before me
a pit of fire and hell that could **** me,
and melt the life I have inside of me ,
I saw flames that spoke to me
“Ryan”
Mar 12, 2021
Mar 12, 2021 at 1:48 PM UTC
True hacks and phonies all around, speaking through their ivory horns of pure disgust and wallowing in incompetence, ******* and kissing and mishandling their newborn children which they name in propriety and for the pearls of God that allow them to **** and **** well. I will blast them all to the deepest of hell for there they belong with me and they will be outrightly ****** by the sojourning sheiks that give their sufferers a razor-tipped ******** that they know they deserve. Where is your relatable, so enjoyable, three or four piece family TV meal that you so deeply craved after a long day at work? It is gone gone gone and now you are subject to your deepest incongruities with yourself, how dare you be such a bother and how dare you believe in your ability to inspire. If you are not feeling this frustration of never ceaselessly being able to grasp at the story that lies within the easel of the juices of your soul, then you are not- and never will be- worth anything more than some broken throbbing piece of genitalia that seethes and suckles at the broken fallacies of pure love and distraught youth. You do not know and you will never know, and if you dare you will never truly make progress for you are a vacuous, insufferable, erratic dame that is not a good piece of skin so much as you are the perfect tool for everyone: a loudspeaker stripped naked and bare for all the world to **** a true contributor, unlike your deepest and most esteemed of peers. Aww, how does that feel? How does it feel to finally implode from your own vicarious and hollow attempts at wisdom and knowledge? What’s left to be learned has been learned, don’t you understand? Don’t you get it? Don’t you think it’s time to stop digging your ***** ***** nails into that rusted cloud of old hope and forgiveness? Everyone has left, and that is what we must deal with. You must be some mongrel to sit down like an unrepentant dog. Cross-legged and all.
Nov 30, 2019
Nov 30, 2019 at 6:35 PM UTC
A shelter for the insects to fester.
A refuge for rotting dreams.
A being with no identity.
A splint within reality
I want to harbor in.
A dying fire buried
under ash that can still burn.
I want to touch and know
what it means to feel.
I hope to reincarnate
the other piece of my soul
Before this body is dust.
Aug 10, 2019
Aug 10, 2019 at 12:45 PM UTC
Going round in circles
always and forever
remote in hand
but I'll puke before I hit stop
I never hit stop
And they are waving
waving at me
love in their eyes
Saying 'get off now'
'get off, it's enough'
The world won't stop
why can't it stop
why won't it wait for me
to get off
But I'll never get off
They are still waving
but their smiles are fading
I see the crowd behind them
they've stopped caring
they used to care
And I start feeling sick
again and again
But if I just go faster
if I just close my eyes
maybe then I'll forget
And they're still waving
but I try not to look
I just close my eyes
'cause I won't get off
I'll never get off
They wave and they scream
but I pretend I don't hear
I just keep going round
and the world disappears
Apr 25, 2018
Apr 25, 2018 at 5:32 AM UTC
Suddenly, I had to catch my breath, I arose from my pillow trembling and stunned from a nightmare. My heart thumping incessantly against my chest. Sweat drops were streaming from my face. I gazed at the fan whirring above me and then to the flayed walls that surrounded me. I turned to the light that begged to come in from a drawn shade, half-drunk alcoholic bottles, and an uncapped night time sleep aid on my counter. It was oh so familiar: the perpetual nightmares, the same ceiling fan whirring sluggishly above me, the alcohol I used to drown my sorrows in and the pills. I was weary of the depressing ambience. I couldn’t wake up to this another night. Under my breath, while using a finger to wipe the crust from the corner of my eye I muttered "how will I ever get out of this labyrinth?"
I sauntered outside my room to the living room, grabbed a diet coke from the fridge, swiped a Malborne cigarrete and a lighter from the counter, and stepped out the door. I perched on the stairway leading to the mahogany door and lit a cigarette. As I drew the nicotine in, I started to ponder on the quickest and most painless way to take my life. after much contemplation and weighing of options, I came to a decision. I hurled the cigerette on the ground, stepped on it till I was certain I put it out, twisted the door **** and slammed the door behind me. I unbuckled my belt as I walked into my room, climbed atop my bed, fastened the belt around my neck and hung it to that same sluggish fan. Who knew it will be the death of me? I took my last deep breath, then took a step forward without hesitation. There was a sudden grasp around my neck, and a shriek came bursting out from the tightness of my throat. I found myself six inches above the ground begging for air, waving my arms in an awkward motion as though that will somehow save me. My soul was slipping away from its body. I could feel it. I could feel a separation, and even though I had always been skeptic about whether we have souls or not, this last few minutes cleared every doubt. It was departing, that unfathomable thing within us that we sometimes describe as light or as the Hindus call it "I" was departing from its home. Everywhere slowly turned dark, even though my eyes were bulging outside its sockets. And Just before I embarked on a journey atop the coach of death, a muffled scream brought air back to my lungs and sent electric shocks through my body.
Suddenly, there was another urge to catch my breath. I arose from an unfamiliar bed with no fan whirring above me. The walls were cream white, no half-drunk alcoholic bottles laying on their sides. But there were pills in a transparent bottle. Myriads of them stacked neatly in a cabinet. It took me a while to realize I was laying on a hospital bed. It also took me a while to discern a hand clutching firmly to mine. I turned my head slowly to my sisters cried out eyes fixed on me.
Mar 4, 2018
Mar 4, 2018 at 6:16 PM UTC
Goodbyes hurt
Hellos heal
Love burns
Pain kills
Your touch
gives me thrills
I touch you
to make sure this love is real
And my Fingers go numb
let me touch your soul
Read between these lines
To know that you are forever mine
Sep 29, 2017
Sep 29, 2017 at 12:37 PM UTC
I wrote this piece while trying to solve a riddle
different color of emotions like a bag of skittles
feeling yellow, green, purple but then end up feeling blue
they ask me who I am I say I have no clue
so they read my words and find me in my poetry
unpredictable I am, blind to false emotions
and numb to true intention
I choose to see the world with my third vision
love me now or fall victim to my words which leave you guessing
stuck in a maze I am amazed, at the pace my past loved my past
repeated emotions like my love had no intention
in class for 27 years and still haven't learned my lesson
Asking for more but subjected to be less then
Jun 12, 2017
Jun 12, 2017 at 4:05 PM UTC
Dinner was a mission, I often wonder if we are to
eat, sleep and ONE day die. Someone from across the dinner
table asked me why I chew on my chicken bones and sometimes
Leave the meat... I brushed the question off and said
"its an Africa thing. You know putting some respek on the chicken"
What I tell myself before I sleep is that at least I had
a chance to destroy something. Tear it down.hell grind it down to
dust and leave it like that. I enjoy draining the life out it.
watching the bone marrow seep out of the cracked
bones reminds of myself. Reminded of my shattered soul and
my will to live that seeps out of my shattered self every **** day.
I am reminded of everyone who has come and stripped me of my
"meat" whether I called it worth , sacrifices I made or simply trying to find love in places where rejection taught me that black skin
can bruise.
I am reminded that I can chew these bones as hard as I want to and
then leave them without any sorry lingering in the air.
For once, I get to destroy someone and walk out.
That's the only time I could feel worth it, I had the last say.
That's the only time I could turn into the monsters
that chipped me into tiny pieces and taught me 2nd best is okay.
But these are just lies I mask as the truth. .. I look up to my classmate across the dinner table and smile. All is well. All is well. Just another mask I have to wear,,,,, Another lie I have to sell.....
Jul 11, 2016
Jul 11, 2016 at 12:25 PM UTC